You know the thing I'd do first
by groundcontroltomajortom
Summary: What if Future Ted really could travel in time? Would he travel back from 2030 to April 2013 and have those extra 45 days with Tracy? Slightly AU and a HIMYM Sci Fi.
1. Chapter 1

You know the thing I'd do first

'_Kids, it's been almost twenty years since that cold April night in 2013 and I can safely tell you that if I could go back in time and relive that night, there's no way in hell I'd go to 'Robots vs. Wrestlers'. No, I'd go home__._

_I'd go to my old apartment, see all my old furniture, my old stuff. I'd see my old drafting table, where I sketched out my first building. I'd sit on that old couch and smell the Indian food cooking three stories below. _

_I'd go to Lily and Marshall's place, be back in that old living room where so many things happened. I'd see the baby. I don't know if you can picture me holding your six-foot-seven cousin Marvin over my head, but back then I could._

_I'd go have a drink with Barney and Robin, watch them fight about their caterer or whatever it was they were fighting about that night._

_But none of those things is the thing I'd do first. You know the thing I'd do first.'_

_Ted Mosby, The Time Travellers_

As Ted Mosby climbed the stairs of his apartment block, he reflected on the day that had passed. It had been lengthy and not altogether successful, featuring two seminars in which he had effectively lectured hung over, reluctant sophomores who were even less interested in modernist architecture than he was. He was glad that he could look forward to delivering tomorrow's lecture on neo-classicism, a style which he found significantly more rewarding, so much so that he practiced his oration as he continued his gradual ascent to his apartment.

He approached his front door and reached for his keys in his pocket. As he looked up, he noticed that the door was ajar, yet there was no mark on it to indicate forced entry. He stepped inside, surveying the apartment for signs of intrusion, but it was as clean as it had been when he had left in the morning. Nonetheless, having lived in New York for fifteen years, he was prepared for the possibility of a break in, although if this was a break in, it had been undertaken by a remarkably tidy troop of burglars.

'Hello,' he said.

No response was forthcoming. Ted heard the bathroom lock click open. He searched for the nearest object he could find to use as self-defence – a copy of _Architecture Weekly Magazine_ lying on a nearby shelf.

'Dammit Ted,' he said to himself.

The door opened and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Ted stood poised, his magazine rolled up as if ready to swat a fly, when the intruder appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

'Hi,' he said.

Ted failed to reply. He took in the appearance of the man that had let himself into his apartment – he wore a tweed jacket, grey suede shoes and blue trousers, with a maroon shirt under a sleeveless navy blue sweater. Though, none of these features were as singular as his face – the very same face that Ted saw every time he looked in a mirror, except perhaps twenty years older. The streaks of grey hair were an additional clue, as was the wedding band that he noticed, with some relief, on the left ring finger of the man who stood opposite him.

'Who the hell are you?' Ted asked.

'I am you,' the intruder replied.

'You're me?'

'Yep. Seventeen years from now.'

Ted additionally noticed a steel band wrapped around the left upper arm of his counterpart, which had a on it a digital display with a red flashing countdown timer on it. He dropped his copy of _Architecture Weekly_ on the floor.

'Okay, if this is some kind of daydream then it's an extremely clichéd one,' Ted said.

'It's not a dream. I've travelled back in time to meet you,' he replied.

'What?'

'Ted, listen to me, listen to us. To me, listen to me. Tonight, you're going to do something very stupid, cause you're lonely and depressed,' the man said.

Ted shook his head. The man looked him in the eye.

'You're going to go to _Robots vs. Wrestlers _on your own,' the man said.

'Yeah, well, it's _Robots vs. Wrestlers: Legends_ actually,' Ted replied.

'My time here is limited,' the man replied in a fatherly tone.

'Sorry.'

Ted noticed that his counterpart had dark patches under his eyes, whether he was exhausted from the effects of time travel or through some other means he could not tell.

'Ted, I'm going to give you an address,' the man said.

'Whose is it?' Ted asked.

The time traveller smiled in response.

'It's hers isn't it?' Ted asked, returning the smile.

The time traveller nodded slowly, yet Ted perceived that an expression of doubt, or possibly sorrow, briefly crossed the face of his older counterpart.

'Yes, it's her place but I'm only here briefly, Ted, and I don't want you to waste any more time. So please, please try for my sake not to completely mess this up,' his future self said.

'But if you got it right the first time, then why do you need me to meet her now?' Ted asked.

'I have my reasons,' his future self replied, with a tone that brooked no argument.

Ted paused. He sat down for a moment and touched the surface of his drafting table, as if to ensure beyond all doubt that this was not a hallucination.

'And you're certain that you being here won't change the course of history or anything?' Ted asked.

'Ted, you're an architecture professor. Do you honestly think you're that important?' his future self asked.

Ted nodded, inwardly conceding that his run for president in 2032 now seemed an even more distant prospect. He stood up.

'Just don't bet on The Indians to win anything anytime soon,' his future self advised.

'Noted,' Ted replied.

'And for God's sake, try to convince Barney and his Brazilian friends to invent a time machine with a range of greater than seventeen years. I've been sitting in your apartment, our apartment, since noon cause they got the hours and minutes confused,' he added.

'Okay,' Ted said.

'And, no, this is not your typical Thursday afternoon activity at the age of fifty two,' his future self said, in a low voice.

'I never said it was,' Ted replied quickly.

'Finally, have this,' his future self said as he handed him a written note of the address he had promised. It read:

_West 115__th__ Street, Number 317, Apartment 7A_

'What am I meant to do with it?' Ted asked.

'I don't know. Contrive something. Work on a plan. You're good at plans,' his future self said.

'Perhaps I should just go to her apartment and declare my undying love,' Ted said, laughing.

His future self silenced him with a withering look.

'Don't screw this up, Mosby. I'm counting on you,' the time traveller added.

The image of his future self started to flicker. Ted reached for him for a moment but before either of them could speak any further the older man had disappeared.

Ted rubbed his eyes for a moment whilst he briefly considered the probability of what he had just witnessed. Several possibilities occurred to him. One was that he had drunk too much recently. Another was that the particularly strong 'sandwich' that he and Marshall had the previous Wednesday may have affected him more adversely than he realised. The third was that he needed to contact Kevin for a psychiatric appointment.

Though, one other more dominant train of thought occupied him. That what he had just participated in was a frank conversation with his older self, who had, in fact, travelled back almost twenty years in time to talk to him.

Ted looked again at his drafting table, upon which sat a solitary ticket to _Roberts vs. Wrestlers: Legends _that offered him alternative entertainment for the evening.

He realised at that moment that he had nothing to lose.


	2. Chapter 2

You know the thing I'd do first

Chapter Two

Tracy McConnell sat at her desk, staring at her laptop, wondering what to write next. It was 9.30 in the evening and her barely touched cup of coffee had long since turned cold. She scrolled to the top of the document to read the essay question once again:

_Describe the causal, macro and microeconomic factors that led to the collapse of Lehman Brothers in 2008._

It was not even a question. She enjoyed her subject and did not regret her choice of degree, yet, as with all of her academic experiences to date, there were aspects of it that did not interest her in the slightest.

She stood and took three deep breaths. Her essay had absorbed her attention too much to notice that the bedroom window was open on what was a cold April evening. Perhaps Louis had been in here doing his exercises earlier and had left it that way, as some kind of Spartan macho thing, Tracy thought.

Tracy closed the window. She looked around the room for motivation to return to her desk, but none of her trinkets, not even her little yellow bus, had their usual cheering effect.

Certainly Louis' 'half' of the room did not provide any. His wall was covered with posters of boxers and football players that she had never heard of. Most of the posters had a quote on them about how important it was to be 'better than the next guy' or something that essentially meant that.

She turned off her laptop and walked into the front room. Louis was watching ice hockey on the large flat screen TV. He had the blank expression of a man who was fully immersed in the sport on the screen in front of him, sipping occasionally from a bottle of beer in his left hand.

Tracy walked into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water and went to join Louis on the couch.

'How's the hockey?' she asked.

'Oh, well, The Rangers are losing,' he replied.

Tracy knew that The Rangers were the New York team, so she adopted what she hoped was an expression of vague annoyance. She could not help but feel that she had not disguised her indifference particularly well.

'How's the essay going? Louis asked.

'Oh, fine,' Tracy lied.

They returned to watching the hockey in silence. Louis put his arm around her shoulder and she shuffled along the sofa reluctantly, placing her glass of water on the table in front of them.

'How was work?' she asked.

'It was fine,' he replied.

At that point, she decided to give up on conversation with Louis for the evening. The team that were not The Rangers scored again. Louis scratched the back of his head and continued to stare at the screen. After another five minutes of hockey had passed, there was a knock on the door.

'Are you expecting anyone?' Louis asked.

'No, are you?' Tracy replied.

Louis shook his head. Tracy stood up and walked over to the door. She opened it. A man stood at the entrance, around six feet tall, wearing a brown jacket over a shirt and tie. He seemed to be rather anxious. In his left hand, he held a stack of leaflets. There was something familiar about him, though Tracy could not quite place it.

'Hi,' he said.

'Hi,' she replied.

There was a long pause in which he seemed to be looking past her, towards Louis, then his gaze returned to hers gradually.

'Can I help you?' Tracy asked.

'Oh, yeah, I'm handing out leaflets for a bar just down the road – MacLaren's. My friend Carl owns it. Anyway, it's a really good Irish Bar. You should try it out,' he said.

'Ah, yeah, I know it. Although, originally I thought it was called something else,' Tracy replied.

'Oh, what was that?'

'Puzzles.'

He nodded slowly.

'Yeah, it was called that for a while. It used to be a much better bar when it was called that but it's still, well, it's still awesome,' he said.

'Okay, well, I'll give it another visit at some point,' she replied.

'Alright, thanks. Well, have a good evening,' he said.

He turned to leave. She took a step out of the apartment as he walked away.

'Hey, have we met before?' Tracy asked.

The man turned around at the end of the corridor, he had an odd expression on his face, as if he had a slight sense of vertigo.

'No, we've not met before,' he replied.

'I could have sworn that you look familiar. Are you a teacher?' she asked.

'Yeah, I teach.'

'Economics?'

'No, Architecture. I think you have me mistaken for someone else. Enjoy the rest of your evening,' he said, as he stepped onto the stairwell.

'Thanks,' she said, as he walked away.

Tracy walked back inside the flat. Louis was unmoved, watching the third quarter of his game. The Rangers had made something of a comeback it seemed.

'Who was that?' Louis asked.

'Oh, just a guy dishing out leaflets,' Tracy replied.

'What for?' he asked.

'That bar MacLaren's, where you first bought me a drink,' she replied.

'Ah, that place. Cool.'

He continued to drink his beer. Tracy stepped carefully into the kitchen and unfolded the leaflet on the table. The central pane featured a photo of a group, clearly slightly the worse for wear after a long evening. She recognised the figure in the middle of the group as the man who had just delivered her leaflet. Along the bottom of the photo, the caption read:

_MacLaren's Regulars: Lily, Marshall, Ted, Barney and Robin_

'His name is Ted,' she said to herself.

She also recognised the blonde man on his left as someone who had hit on her at a drugs store a few months previous.

'Still, if that's the kind of guy he hangs out with,' she thought aloud.

'Everything okay back there?' Louis asked from the living room.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,' Tracy replied.

She folded the leaflet back up and walked out of the kitchen to retrieve her coat and bag.

'Um, I'm going to go for a walk,' she said.

Louis looked at her with curiosity for a moment, but then returned to watching his match.

'Okay, just be careful. New York's a big town,' he said, a smile forming on his face.

'Oh, I will be,' she replied.

Tracy shut the door behind her. She realised as she walked down the corridor that his parting comment was Louis' attempt at a joke. That, in itself, made her laugh quietly.

She started walking down the stairs, uncertain of where she would go, but in the knowledge that the journey would include a stop at an Irish Bar that, until a few minutes previous, she had entirely forgotten about.


	3. Chapter 3

You know the thing I'd do first

Chapter Three

Ted walked through the front door of MacLaren's carrying his remaining leaflets. He looked around the bar as he entered. It seemed to be a fairly quiet night. He recognised some of the more regular groups, but there was no one around who he knew well enough to share a conversation with.

He handed the leaflets back to Carl, who gave him an enquiring look. Ted had only handed out around a third of the leaflets that Carl had given him, and although the barman was pleased with this unexpected favour, he was confused as to why it seemed that Ted had only delivered to perhaps a couple of streets or a small apartment block.

Ted sat opposite him on one of the bar stools.

'The Indians are playing if you want me to put it on,' Carl said.

'Nah, I'm okay,' Ted replied.

'Well, they're playing The Yankees, so you've got no choice, buddy,' Carl said, changing the channel.

The footage on the TV switched over just as a Yankees player hit the ball into the crowd for a home run. Carl turned back to Ted with a broad smile across his face.

'It's going to be a good night,' Carl said.

Ted shook his head sadly and silently ordered a beer. When Carl returned with his drink, Ted noticed that he was alone behind the bar.

'Are you short tonight?' Ted asked.

'Yeah, Wendy agreed to do a few fill in shifts for me as she's back in the city but she called in sick. So, yeah, we're short,' Carl replied as he went to serve the next customer.

'I could help if you like,' Ted said as the barman returned.

'No,' Carl said, rather more firmly than he had intended to.

There was an awkward pause as they recalled the previous occasion that Ted had worked the bar at MacLaren's. Carl had found some unwelcome surprises the next day, which led to him asking Ted to help him clean up when he arrived with Marshall and Robin the following evening.

Ted returned to his drink and focussed his energy on ignoring the baseball match. This was proving increasingly difficult, especially when Carl pointed out at great volume to the other patrons that Ted was the only Indians fan in the establishment. The widespread laughter this was greeted with reminded him of occasions in the past that he had told strangers that he supported the Washington Generals. He reflected that his choice of sports teams had been an aspect of his life that rarely had provided him with much satisfaction.

Ted stood and left his bar stool to sit in his regular booth. It was unoccupied. None of the rest of the gang could make it out to join him that night. He had attempted, somewhat frantically, to call Marshall after his experience at the woman's apartment, but had only got as far as his voicemail.

He retrieved the ticket for _Robots vs. Wrestlers_ that he had stashed in his jacket pocket and placed it on the table in front of him.

He looked up, and noticed that someone had walked into the bar, someone that he recognised distantly but could not immediately place. She had medium length sandy hair which fell half way down her back. She carried with her a book, it looked to be a Sherlock Holmes mystery but Ted was not certain. She sat at one of the bar stools and started to read.

'Coat Check Girl,' he said to himself.

She turned around, clearly hearing his voice and looked at him with curiosity, placing the book back in her bag. It occurred to Ted in that moment to run out of the bar or hide under the table, but the delay in acting on that impulse prevented him from doing so, as she walked over to the booth with a straightforwardness that he recalled from their last encounter.

'Ted?' she asked.

'Yeah, hi,' Ted replied.

As she stood there, inspecting the booth, Ted realised that he had not seen her in seven years. Her hair had grown, he noted, and she looked thinner than he remembered. She sat down opposite him.

'You never came back,' she said.

'Yeah, I meant to but, well, you know how these things are,' he replied.

'What? You meet someone you like, never bother to contact them, then run into them in a bar seven years later?' she concluded.

'Something like that,' Ted replied quietly.

She laughed. Ted shifted uneasily in his seat. He was quite unsure how to handle this. How, he wondered, should he talk to other women now that he had met the woman who would, at least in theory, eventually become his wife.

'Look, I never even got your name, so, um, it seems wrong to keep calling you "Coat Check Girl",' Ted begun.

'Amanda, my name's Amanda,' she interrupted.

'Amanda, right. Well, Amanda, I'm actually waiting for a date so I'm sorry to end this conversation a little prematurely but, I'm afraid I can't talk to you,' Ted said.

Amanda nodded slowly. She offered a half smile and reached into her bag to produce a business card which she placed it on the table.

'That's got my number on it, so call me if it doesn't go well,' she said as she stood up and returned to the bar.

Ted nodded in thanks. He picked up the business card and read it, curious to discover what the woman he had known as 'Coat Check Girl' for so many years was currently doing with her life.

_Amanda Graham, Fashion Designer, East 24__th__ St._

Ted nodded in appreciation at the change in Amanda's fortunes. It had always seemed a waste to him to have someone with as sharp a wit as hers checking in coats at a dance club. He felt guilty for lying to her about his non-existent date, yet he now knew with a certainty he had rarely experienced before that there was only one woman he wished to be with. Even though, to his surprise, he had discovered earlier that evening that she was not as single as he had assumed.

'Dammit Future Me,' Ted whispered to himself.

As he placed the card back on the table in front of him, he noticed in his peripheral vision a familiar face from earlier in the evening.

It was her. The woman whose apartment door he had approached not more than an hour ago. She had arrived at MacLaren's. Quite where from Ted could not tell, though he could read the expression on her face from countless similar situations in his past. It spoke of incomprehension and disappointment. She was staring at the business card. Ted was unsure how long she had been standing there but realised with regret how she may have perceived the conversation he had just shared.

Their eyes met briefly, and then she walked quickly out of the bar.


	4. Chapter 4

You know the thing I'd do first

Chapter Four

Tracy knew that it was too much to ask, that this man, who had appeared at her door just over an hour ago, would be the type of guy who would not spend his lonely evenings at bars hitting on single women.

She had hoped for better from him. He had seemed kind and his bearing implied a depth of honesty that she was unused to sensing from most other men in New York. Yet, as she stood there, watching him flirt comfortably with a red headed woman, Tracy fully appreciated the extent of her error.

She climbed out of the entrance of MacLaren's and onto 55th Street, a largely residential area of New York. Two drunk men stumbled past her and on to their way home through a chilly evening. They were young, perhaps in their early twenties. One of them turned around and gazed at Tracy. He watched her for a moment with a frankness that was uncomfortable. His friend soon picked up on this and led him away around the corner.

She thought of Louis, sitting at home in front of his hockey, quite unaware of her distress. The thought of it brought tears to her eyes. She blamed the cold consciously, allowing herself to believe the lie if only for a moment. Louis was, after all, a good man who held nothing but sincere feelings for her, she was certain of that much. That, in itself, seemed an unusual quality at that precise moment.

'Hi,' she heard a man's voice from behind her. She started walking, determined not to be side-tracked.

'Wait,' he said. She could hear him break into a jog until he was almost next to her.

She turned around and stopped, ready to confront him, to make whatever remark that came to mind to ward off more unwanted attention until she realised who had caught up with her.

'It's you,' she said.

'Yeah, hi,' the architecture professor replied, the man from the bar, this Ted stood opposite her on the sidewalk.

'What do you want?' Tracy asked, more sharply than she had intended.

Ted hesitated. He gazed past her for a moment, examining the apartment block behind them, as if that would grant him the power of speech.

'I just wanted to catch up with you, cause you have to understand what was happening in there,' he said.

'Oh, I have a good idea what was happening,' Tracy replied.

'It wasn't, she made the move, okay, I did not ask her to sit with me. She's just someone from a long time ago…'

'One of your exes, right?'

Tracy walked away from him, as fast as she could. She could not bear to look back at his listless expression.

She could not work out why she was quite so angry, why she was wasting such levels of emotion on a man she did not know. It seemed very curious, though she forced herself to put aside such notions as she focussed on her route home, sharply turning right onto 9th Avenue.

'Wait, please,' he said again, having kept pace with her.

'What do you want from me?' Tracy asked, coming to a stop.

'That woman, she's not an ex. She's just a girl I met years ago at a dance club.'

'Oh, well that's so much better.'

Ted stopped in front of her, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked away from Tracy and at the traffic flooding along the avenue, before turning back to face her.

'Look, who are you?' she asked.

'What do you mean?' he responded evenly.

'It's just, for someone who I only met delivering leaflets an hour ago, you look at me as if…'

'…As if, what?'

'As if, we've known each other for years, and, frankly, I don't get it.'

Ted looked past her again, he shook his head slightly as if to ward off a stray thought, before looking her again in the eye.

'It's nothing like that, I just, it's just…' he trailed off.

'What, it's just what?' she asked.

'I'm attracted to you, okay. That's all,' he concluded.

'Oh,' she replied.

A moment of silence followed. Tracy had a sudden, deep awareness of her movements, she glanced quickly up and down the sidewalk, it seemed that no one was paying them any particular notice. She looked back at Ted, making a conscious effort to remain still and maintain a non-committal expression.

'I'm sorry, I know that you're with someone and you don't want to hear it…' he began.

'No, no, it's fine,' Tracy interjected.

'I'm just bad at hiding my feelings. My friends always tell me so. One of them is so good at this.'

'Blonde guy, around your height?'

'Yeah.'

'I've met him.'

Ted smiled. A young couple pulled up in a taxi, paid their fare and walked into an apartment block ten metres to the left of where they stood.

'He's a pain in the ass,' Ted said.

Tracy could not help but laugh at that. Yet, she felt sympathy for him, imagining that he had spent many nights feeling overshadowed by the blonde man.

'He tried to hit on me a few months ago, unsuccessfully, I should add,' she said.

'Well, you're not the first, although you may have been one of the last,' Ted replied, somewhat cryptically.

She wondered what that meant, before pushing aside that train of thought.

'Ted, you're a good guy, but I've got to get home,' Tracy said.

'Sure, absolutely,' Ted replied.

'I, um, know where to find you,' she found herself adding.

A few seconds of silence passed between them. Their eyes met once more. Ted blinked.

'Yeah, MacLaren's,' he finally concluded, looking away.

Tracy forced herself to do likewise, gazing out at the traffic, it seemed to be populated by a mix of couples in taxis on their way home and stressed out city workers who had worked two hours later than planned. In the ten minutes they had been talking the traffic had become, as is habitual in New York, stationary.

'So, I should let you go home,' Ted said, offering his hand.

'Yeah, of course,' Tracy replied, shaking it.

He walked back in the direction of MacLaren's. Tracy watched his first few steps. He turned around after five paces, perhaps noting that she had not yet moved.

'Could I just ask for your name?' Ted asked.

'My name's Tracy,' she replied.

Ted nodded. He had a curious expression on his face for a moment as a strange half-smile emerged from it.

'Good night, Tracy,' he said, as he turned to resume his walk.

'Good night, Ted,' she replied.

Tracy turned to the opposite direction and walked at a brisk pace. The sidewalk was progressively emptying as people arrived home for the evening. She thought of Ted as she walked, finding that she felt confusion, a pleasant form of confusion that she had not felt in many years.

* * *

**Author's Note: Apologies for the long, long delay in updating this one!**

**I broke one of my fingers pretty badly recently so typing has been much harder, although I've also been working on original stuff which has been keeping me away from this. I am gradually recovering from said injury so I hope to be more efficient in getting on with it over the coming months!**


	5. Chapter 5

You know the thing I'd do first

Chapter Five

Even by Ted's recent standards, the evening had been unpredictable. He had found that the people that had passed him on the street as he walked to Lily and Marshall's place had offered vaguely enquiring expressions in his direction. Glancing at a window on 55th Street he realised why this was. He had been wearing an expression of puzzlement for the duration of the walk.

The confusion of the evening had not been the only matter on his mind, until a year ago, it would have been unthinkable that he would not get through to any of the gang on their cells, and even Marshall had allowed him to go to voicemail in what Ted considered to be a shocking lapse in the self-styled Eriksen code of etiquette. And though he knew that his friends would always have his back, he was preoccupied in wondering whether it was the beginning of a process that would result in the group drifting apart. Although, as his mind searched this particular train of thought, he was aware that he was walking towards the apartment at which his two closest friends resided.

Marshall had responded to his text asking to come around. His phone buzzed as a text message arrived. It read '_come on up_.'

He walked up the stairs slowly. The short walk he had taken with Tracy was at the end of an evening during which he had undertaken a significant amount of exercise and he looked forward to sitting on a familiar couch.

Lily opened the front door. She was dressed in a bright pink dressing gown, covering mauve pajamas which were distinctly at odds with her face, which bore all the features of someone suffering with insomnia.

'Hey, come in,' she said quietly.

He walked into the apartment. Much of the floor space in the front room was given over to the items that Lily and Marshall had bought in anticipation of Marvin's arrival. With her usual attention to detail, Lily had marked a large cardboard box as 'baby clothes', Ted made the assumption that these were second hand from her colleagues at school, though he wondered momentarily whether Marshall had been privy to Lily's latest credit card bills. He attempted to push this cruel thought away from his mind.

He sat down and noted the smell of coffee reaching him from the kitchen.

'Making coffee?' he enquired.

'Yep, want one?' Lily asked.

'Thanks.'

Ted had taken his coffee maker, known as 'Shocky' for its knack of blowing fuses, to his new apartment. Even though he rarely used it now, he always found himself thinking of it when he had a moment of leisure at Lily and Marshall's. He had even noted that Lily habitually stood well away from their modern, shock-free coffee maker when it was switched on. It was an event he witnessed regularly, and it always brought a smile to his face.

'So, what's the news?' Lily asked, placing a cup in front of Ted.

'Oh, no news. Just a social call,' Ted replied, taking a sip.

'Ted,' Lily said.

Ted had never met anyone with quite the ability that Lily had to put such a level of emotional emphasis behind one word. Nor did he know anyone who could read him better. He admitted inwardly that he had picked a hopeless battle.

'Fine, I met someone,' Ted said.

'That's a one, Ted,' Lily replied.

'Oh, come on, there was a 70-30 chance you were awake anyway,' Ted continued.

'Good point. Go on,' Lily replied.

Ted paused for a moment, surveying the otherwise empty apartment.

'Where's Marshall?' he asked.

'Asleep, go on,' Lily replied.

'But, he sent me a text.'

'Oh yeah, I used his phone. Go on.'

Ted again found himself musing on how homogenous Lily and Marshall's relationship had become. Though, he also noted Lily's expectant look and felt the need to recount the events of the evening for her benefit.

He elected to omit the element of a future version of himself travelling back in time to meet him, deciding that even by the standards of their seventeen year friendship, that would be implausible.

'So, you're saying that you went to the apartment of a woman you don't know to deliver a flyer for MacLaren's,' Lily summarised.

'Yeah,' Ted replied, shifting in his seat.

'That's weird, Ted. Even for you, that's weird.'

'Okay, okay, that's not the whole story.'

He told the complete tale this time, with no omissions for Lily. She retained a poker face throughout, and once Ted had finished, she stood up.

'Wait, where are you going?' Ted asked.

'To wake someone who might believe all that,' Lily replied quietly.

Ted shook his head. He knew how his story must have sounded, and though he was unsurprised by Lily's scepticism, he had hoped for a more supportive reaction.

She reappeared a minute later, closely followed by a yawning Marshall.

'Hey man,' Marshall said.

'Hey,' Ted replied.

Marshall sat down slowly. He was dressed in grey pajama bottoms and a _Star Wars_ t-shirt offering '_counselling and family therapy services to the Skywalker family'_.

Ted repeated the story.

'Wow,' Marshall exclaimed at its conclusion.

'Yeah,' Ted replied.

'So, Barney invented a time machine?' Marshall asked.

'Yeah, or will invent one,' Ted replied.

The three of them lapsed into silence for a moment.

'No, there's no way this is real,' Lily said.

'What?' Ted replied.

'I've not slept well recently. This must be a dream,' Lily concluded.

'Lily, this is not a dream. You're awake. It's 11pm.'

'Then, how do you expect us to believe this, Ted? I mean, you've made some really bad choices recently, and I'm wondering if it's starting to affect you.'

'What do you mean by that?' Ted asked.

Lily sat back. She exchanged a look with Marshall who started to focus on manipulating a crease in his shirt, in order to look away from Ted.

Lily crossed her arms, and then just as quickly uncrossed them. She leaned forward towards Ted.

'It's just, well…' Lily began.

'What? It's what?' Ted asked.

'We don't think you're over what happened with Robin, and we think it's changed you more deeply than you realise.'

Ted glanced away from Lily to Marshall, who had taken a sudden, deep interest in the state of the ceiling. Lily kicked him, and he promptly met Ted's gaze.

Ted took a long sip of his coffee while he considered his reply.

'Well, thank you for your honesty. I don't agree with you,' Ted said.

'Okay, Ted, it's just that, telling someone that you love them, and not hearing that back…' Lily began.

'Is something that neither of you have ever experienced,' Ted interjected.

The silence following that statement stretched for several minutes. Ted attempted to maintain an even expression, looking past Marshall and at their bathroom door.

The baby monitor came to life with the sound of Marin's crying. Lily stood up.

'My turn,' she said.

She walked carefully to Marvin's room and closed the door behind her quietly.

'Look,' both Ted and Marshall said simultaneously.

'No, you go on,' they repeated.

They both laughed quietly. Marshall sat forward in his chair.

'I know… I mean, we know that you've been through hell with all this, man,' Marshall said.

'Yeah, I get that,' Ted replied.

'And we, well, I believe you, Ted. And, even if Lily doesn't she'd go along with it to see you with someone special.'

'Yeah, sure.'

'It's just a lot to take in, buddy.'

'She's not single.'

'What?'

'My "future wife" is not single, Marshall. She's living with a guy.'

'Oh.'

Ted could hear Lily singing 'night, night little Marvin' though the monitor. Marvin's crying was gradually subsiding, though he was clearly still awake.

'She's also met Barney,' Ted added.

'Oh,' Marshall replied.

'Say something other than "oh", please.'

'Okay, well, I'm reminded of the end of the 1999 NFC Championship Game.'

'Why does everything come back to that game?'

'Exactly, Ted. Exactly.'

Lily returned, having succeeded in returning Marvin to sleep.

'Did someone mention the 1999 NFC Championship Game?' Lily asked.

'Damn!' Marshall and Ted exclaimed, bashing their clenched fists on the table.

'You guys suck, she said, walking into the kitchen to the sound of their laughter.

Ted sipped at his coffee, which had turned lukewarm. Marshall scratched the back of his head and yawned loudly, before refocussing his attention on Ted.

'Okay, so what's her name' Marshall asked.

'Tracy,' Ted replied.

'Still talking about Ted's _Star Wars_ time travel bride?' Lily asked, returning with a glass of orange juice.

'Yeah, though time travel generally happens in _Star Trek_, honey,' Marshall replied.

'That's not… The point is that she's lovely, and beautiful, by the way,' Ted said.

'And spoken for,' Marshall added.

'Marshall!' Ted exclaimed.

Lily's head turned slowly to stare at Ted. Her expression was volcanic, and Ted found that the air in the room seemed much shorter as a consequence.

'You hit on a woman who is in a relationship?' Lily asked.

'Yeah, I did, and she's not happy with him, Lily. Why else did she follow me to MacLaren's?' Ted asked.

'That's not the point. The point is that you're not Barney.'

'But she's…'

'Yes, I know who you think she is, Ted. Just, where do you think she is right now?'

'At home?'

'I meant emotionally, Ted. She's probably very confused.'

'Yeah, well, she's not the only one,' Ted replied quietly.

'That's certainly true,' Marshall said.

The clock ticked over to 11.30pm. Ted shortly had to leave. He had a lecture scheduled for 9am tomorrow that was rumoured to be the subject of a spot check by the head of the faculty.

He stood up. Marshall and Lily did likewise.

'Look, I know this is odd, but I'm glad I came to you guys. I think Robin would have laughed at me,' Ted said.

'No worries, man,' Marshall said.

'Barney probably would have put it in the playbook,' Lily added.

They laughed. Ted walked towards the front door and opened it. Lily and Marshall stood just behind him on the threshold.

'MacLaren's, tomorrow at eight?' he asked, half turning as he stopped just outside.

Lily nodded at Marshall. He smiled at Ted.

'Sure, man. See you tomorrow,' Marshall said.

Ted waved goodbye. They closed the door and he began his walk down the stairs.

As he walked towards the street, he contemplated the day ahead. For the next twelve hours he would have to concentrate on teaching, though Neo-Classical architecture somehow did not seem quite as important as it had a few hours earlier.


End file.
